Job For A Cowboy
by SimonWi
Summary: Dusty Hayes is expecting to be part of the new MASK racing team, but circumstances has led to Matt Trakker making other plans for his agent - involving a weapon codenamed Billboard Blast...


The automated voice of the MASK computer announcing the elevator had reached ground floor woke Matt Trakker with a start. He groaned and stretched before looking around. It took him a few minutes to realise he was still in the workshop of MASK Headquarters, deep underneath Boulder Hill. Bruce Sato was slumped face down over the desk, his arms acting as a makeshift pillow for his head. Matt himself had fallen asleep on a nearby sofa that was too small for him to lie across comfortably. He felt groggy, stiff and above all else hungry. Really hungry. He really needed something to eat. The door of the workshop slid open and Matt Trakker's wishes were answered.

Dusty Hayes strolled into the workshop, whistling a Johnny Cash song. He was holding a large deep dish pizza in each hand.

"Howdy pards," he said. "Scott said you two were down here. I borrowed your kitchen for a couple hours Matt. Hope you don't mind."

Matt's reply was to snatch one of the plates away from Dusty and tear a slice of pizza straight off. He bit deep and closed his eyes, savouring the cheese, pepperoni and olives. Dusty rested the second plate on the desk and used his hand to fan the aromas rising towards Bruce, who stirred and raised his head. Dusty managed not to laugh at the string of drool that had formed at the corner of Bruce's mouth, choosing instead to turn to a small worktop where a coffee maker was sitting idle.

"So how long you two been down here?" he asked as he poured a packet of granules into a filter.

"What time is it?" asked Matt through another mouthful of pizza.

"Noon. On Wednesday."

"Then…" Matt tried to think.

"Thirty-six hours," muttered Bruce.

"And are y'all finished?"

"If only Dusty," said Matt. "Changing MASK into a racing team sounds easy, but it's not. Vehicles we do have need re-tuning to specifications, and new vehicles need built as well. We got a lot to do if we're ready for the first race."

"Is it one of them new vehicles you and Bruce are working on right now?"

"Yes," said Bruce. "We've finalised the blueprints for the design."

Dusty peered over Bruce's head and read the name in thick black ink at the top. "Billboard Blast," he read. A smile appeared in his lips. "So what is it? Is it a motorbike that turns into a hovercraft?"

Bruce looked at Dusty, his brow furrowed in confusion. "No."

"An space shuttle that turns into a jet!"

"No."

Dusty tried not to laugh. "So what it? Tell me Bruce. Tell me."

"It's a billboard stand that converts into a weapons platform with laser cannon and missile capabilities," said Bruce. "I thought the name would be self-explanatory."

"It would have been my next guess Bruce. Swear it would have been."

Matt shook his head has he hid a smile of his own. "Leave him alone and make the coffee Dusty."

Dusty complied and was soon handing Bruce and Matt two steaming hot cups with plenty cream and sugar.

"So how will it work Bruce?" asked Dusty as he sat down on the sofa beside Matt. "Be a mite tricky to move around."

"It's made of a prototype alloy," said Bruce. "Very strong, but 90% lighter than steel. The main post is hollow but can hold the weight of the cannon and launcher with no problems. It's split into segments which can be carried in the MASK hovercraft from race to race, and assembled at a designated spot."

"Nice," said Dusty. "What else is there? You said you have something for me."

Matt took a long sip drink of his coffee. Time to get serious. "Bruce, why don't go get a shower and some sleep. We'll pick it up again later.

Bruce nodded and left, muttering under his breath that a motorbike that converted into a hovercraft might just work. Matt held up a hand to stop Dusty speaking until the door had closed. Dusty started talking two seconds later after it did so.

"So is my new vehicle ready then?" he asked. "Is it that race car I saw in the garage? Razorback, that's what it's called right?"

Matt took a letter off the table and handed it to Dusty. It had the official World Racing Circuit logo at the top. "This came a couple days ago. It's official confirmation. I didn't want to say anything until I got it."

Dusty read the letter. It was rare that Matt saw the Texan lose his laid-back demeanour, and this was one of those times. Dusty angrily screwed the letter up and threw it against the door.

"That is utter horse crud," he snapped. "How the hell did they get that made into law?"

"Mayhem's a lot of things Dusty, but he is not stupid," muttered Matt. "Soon as I had to reveal our identities he could look us up and see where he could worm an advantage. Him convincing the official that my technology and money reserves combined with your driving skills means Team MASK has an unfair advantage over all the other teams is just him doing what he does best."

"There's no way you can appeal it?"

"It would never be heard before the season started," muttered Matt. "Even if it did, red tape and sanctions would mean we couldn't enter any vehicles until it was heard, and that gives VENOM a free pass. I can't let Mayhem have that advantage Dusty. I just can't."

Dusty's anger faded. "I know Matt. I get that. But that leaves me out in the cold. All I really know is driving fast and making pizza. What use am I to MASK now?"

"I have a plan Dusty," replied Matt. "We're going to play VENOM at their own game. They want to use loopholes? Well we can too."

"What loopholes?" asked Dusty.

"You can't be in the races, but there's no rule to you being a training driver," smiled Matt. "You can test vehicles and feel what I can't."

Dusty scratched his head. "You can be just as cryptic as Bruce. Just ain't as fancy with the words."

Matt smiled. "What I mean is that the stunt driving means you're always aware of things that may affect the run and ruin the stunt. You could map all the little dips and corners of the track before the race and decide where the best position for Billboard Blast will be. Just in case."

"In case of what?"

"In case we need you Dusty," said Matt. "I want you to man Billboard Blast. You're reliable and keep a good head under pressure. Clincher though, is every member of MASK trusts you with their life. We're heading into a whole new war with VENOM, where they know who we are and what we are capable of. We need a hidden ace. A last line of defence ready to take that all-or-nothing shot if it's needed. I want you to be that, but I can't and won't force you. If you say no, that's fine. You can go back to your civilian life with my thanks and best wishes."

Dusty was silent as he considered his options. "So you feel you need me even though I can't race?" he finally asked.

"I know I need you."

"Then it ain't much of a choice Matt. I won't lie and say it'll be an easy adjustment from cruising in Gator, but I signed on to help you beat down them VENOM varmints and that's a job that ain't been done yet. I'm in until it is done. I'll fire that cannon."

Matt smiled and offered his hand. "Thank you Dusty."

Dusty took Matt's hand and the two men shook.

"I'm pleased you're staying with us," said Matt. "I can't stand the pizza in town."

Dusty leaned back on the sofa. "All I will say is that platform better have a chair and it better be comfy."

"It's built into the cannon," said Matt.

"Built into the cannon Matt?" asked Dusty. "You saying it's bigger than the Electric Ouch?"

"Bigger like it was built by Texans," said Matt.

Dusty whistled. "Now that would be _darn_ big."

Matt nodded towards the desk. "C'mon, I'll show you the blueprints properly."

The two men stood from the sofa and went to the desk to study the designs, with Matt sure that the finished product - and the man controlling it - would make it one of the best weapons MASK would have against VENOM.


End file.
